


The only thing I can't do is hear

by Goldpeaches



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Disability, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldpeaches/pseuds/Goldpeaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Óin discovers that, compared to a war, being nearly deaf isn't such a big deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The only thing I can't do is hear

It felt like the end of the world, when he first noticed that his hearing was going. He was still young when he first noticed that it wasn’t the people around him mumbling in their beards and the kettle didn’t whistle anymore because it was broken. It was him. He was broken and it made him become introverted and antisocial. He felt angry and ashamed, but worst of all, he felt alone and isolated.

He buried himself in his studies, never left the house and didn’t speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary. He kept in touch with his family in the neighbouring village through letters, claiming that he was too busy to stop by until, one day, his brother, Glóin, visited him and placed a wriggling little thing in his arms. Ugliest little creature Óin had ever seen, but the baby looked at him with his big eyes and giggled. He could still hear that and he could hear his brother telling him that he was an uncle and that the baby’s name was “Gimli”.

He realized that he could still fool most people. He could still talk to people, he just had to focus and concentrate really hard. A lot of people were shocked when Óin started to use the ear trumpet, because they never realised that there was anything wrong with him at all. Even though it was uplifting to see that people didn’t think less of him, didn’t avoid him and didn’t talk about him behind his back - and if they did, well, he wouldn’t know – his condition kept getting worse with every year.

When he heard that Thorin Oakenshield needed a healer for a dangerous quest to reclaim Erebor, Óin didn’t hesitate for one second to volunteer. This was something he could still do. It might have been a while since he had last been in battle, but he still had it in him. He didn’t need his ears to fight and when he heard that Thorin said he was honoured to have Óin join them, he felt proud.

It wasn’t easy, surviving the quest with most of his hearing gone. He often missed it when someone called out a warning and got often hurt as a result, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. Doing as much damage to the enemies as he possibly could was his way of reminding himself that he wasn’t useless yet.

 

Losing his hearing was slow and devastating and something he struggled with for decades. It never occurred to him that being unable to hear was a blessing as well.

There is a battle raging outside and he can feel the ground shake beneath his boots, but he can’t hear a thing. When the first few wounded were carried into his little sickbay, he stuffed some cloth into his ears to muffle their screaming and when he hums to himself, it is blocked out completely.

He does what he can. He pulls out, patches up, sews shut, cuts off. Some he sends back out onto the battlefield, some he covers with sheets, all the while thinking that this one they just brought in, this one is the last one. It has to end sometime, only it doesn’t. The room fills up quicker than Óin and the other healers can see to the patients. He only stops, when he sees the first familiar face. The lad is torn to shreds and it is a miracle that he is still breathing at all. Óin stops, takes the boys hand and holds it through his last moments. They bring in his brother next and Óin thinks that he can save this one, but when the lad sees his dead brother the live just goes out of him. 

Then they carry Thorin in. Their king. On the makeshift bed they put him on, he isn’t that much different from everyone else. He whimpers and screams for his mother just like the rest of them, but Óin can’t feel sympathy for him, for all this death and misery and suffering rests on Thorin’s shoulders.

He may have to see the pain on his face, smell the blood and feel the fear shaking his body, but he doesn’t have to hear a thing when he grasps the arrow in Thorin’s chest and drives it in deeper.


End file.
